


a good man is hard to find

by mothicalcreatures



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Domestic, Edward has chronic foot in mouth syndrome re: trans things, Jewish Character, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Rekindled Relationship, Reunions, Trans Character, Victorian Medicine, of the experimental hormone injection sort, period typical gender language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothicalcreatures/pseuds/mothicalcreatures
Summary: Edward worried his hat in his hands—he wished he’d done a better job of keeping in touch with Tozer following the expedition. He had tried writing Solomon once he’d recovered somewhat, only to find that Solomon no longer lived at the address he’d given Edward when they parted ways. Edward had felt rather despondent after that. He’d hoped—though they’d never discussed it—that they might find a way to continue what had developed between them in the Arctic once they’d returned. Edward now realized that had been fanciful thinking, but they could have kept in touch if only Edward had written sooner.
Relationships: Edward Little/Solomon Tozer
Comments: 17
Kudos: 18
Collections: Lieutenant and Sergeant Gift Exchange





	a good man is hard to find

**Author's Note:**

  * For [finchisalie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finchisalie/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: Canon era fix-it in which Little and Tozer run into each other on land a few years after they are rescued from the Arctic, both struggling with trauma and find comfort in each other despite class differences, maybe they hooked up once on board but it never went further. 
> 
> I didn't manage to get a ton of class difference stuff in there, but I managed to get in some. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Big thank you to @bluebacchus and @teapig, who let me yell about my fic and also lent their character expertise as betas, and to @blasted_heath for betaing this even though it's not a ship they usually read. 
> 
> Title is from A Good Man Is Hard to Find by Tom Waits.

**Portsmouth, Spring 1856**

To Edward, home in England had always meant his parents’ home. There were, of course, times he had been on land, on half pay, and living elsewhere, but no other place had ever taken the title of “home” from his parent’s house. Now, however, with his parents gone and Edward a captain, courtesy of his three years serving in Crimea, he wasall but expected to have a life and family of his own. Except… he wasn’t sure how to do that at all.

His sister Margaret wanted to know when he would be marrying—the last letter Edward had received from her once the mail had finally caught up to them had spoken of his “settling down with a nice young lady” before going to sea again, since surely as a captain he could afford to do so. She’d also pointed out that he likely could have afforded it as a commander too—her husband had been a commander when they’d married—but she of course understood that marriage had not been the first thing on his mind when he’d returned from the Arctic in 1850.

Furthermore, Margaret had extended an invitation for Edward to come stay with them for a time one he returned to England, and, with nowhere better to be, Edward had written to accept her offer almost immediately. If he brought suitable gifts for his nieces he could likely put off her fussing about his marital state for a time. It was born out of worry, Edward knew; he had been at loose ends ever since their straggling, pained return from the Arctic, and his siblings, particularly the ones he was closest to, were concerned.

Edward sighed, shaking himself from his thoughts and taking stock of the street around him. He scanned the store fronts, looking to see if there was anywhere he might stop for gifts. There was what appeared to be a stationery shop a ways up that might have something his sister might enjoy, but he doubted that would satisfy the girls. He tried to do the math on how old Margaret’s eldest, Maggie, would be now. Thirteen maybe? Too old for dolls perhaps, but Edward had no idea what else she might like. He felt rather bad he hadn’t gotten them anything while he’d been away, but the war had not left much chance for sightseeing.

Then his eyes landed on a joiner’s shop across the street from him. There was a proper store front with a window display, which not all carpenters and joiners had in his experience. But there was a nice end table and a chair on which were displayed a number of smaller items: candlesticks, both metal and wood; an intricately carved box; a collection of little toys; there was even a small wooden doll, jointed and carefully painted. The middle three girls would like dolls and perhaps he could ask the shopkeeper what might suit the other girls too.

He crossed the street, and was relieved to see that the shop was open (he’d passed several shops that were already closed, despite it being the middle of the afternoon). There was a woman sitting at the counter and sewing when he walked into the shop and she looked up when Edward walked in. He gave her a nod and removed his hat before glancing around the store. There was a shelf with more of the kind of dolls that were in the window; two larger ones and three smaller ones. The smaller ones would be perfect for Alice, Annie and Kitty, but he was less inclined to get Maggie a doll if she wouldn’t like it and he felt that Bertha might be too young to appreciate a doll this nice.

Edward picked up the dolls carefully and stepped back to see if he could locate any more of the boxes he’d seen in the window, thinking it might make a nice jewelry or trinket box, but to no avail.

A bit sheepishly, he turned to speak to the woman at the counter. “Pardon me, do you happen to have more of those little boxes like the one in the window?”

The woman frowned in thought. “The one in the window… I don’t believe so, they’re rather popular so they go fast, but if you like the one in the window you’re welcome to take that one.” She began to heft herself off the stool she was sitting on, and it was then Edward realized that she was quite heavy with child.

“I… there’s no need to get up…” he said quickly, “I’m sure I can get it myself. I promise I won’t break the display.”

The woman sat back with a grunt. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Edward nodded, feeling mildly embarrassed, and made his way over to the window to get the box.

When he returned and set the box on the counter, the woman picked it up and gave it a once over. “It doesn’t appear much faded, but I’ll give you a discount as we don’t usually sell the items from our window display.”

“Oh, thank you.” Window display items fading from the sunlight hadn’t been something that Edward had ever considered, but it made a great deal of sense.

“Is there anything else you’re looking for?” The woman asked, as she began to tally the prices from the tags on the dolls.

“I… yes,” Edward began. “Something for a very young girl, three, almost four. I thought one of the wooden dolls might be a bit much for her.”

The woman hummed. “There’s a basket of cloth dolls on the floor just to your left if you think that might be better. How old are your other girls?”

Edward cast his eyes down in the direction indicated, and sure enough there was a basket full of soft cloth dolls, just as fashionably dressed as the wooden ones, but certainly better for a three year old.

“Eldest is thirteen, I think, and the others… I’m honestly not sure,” Edward said with a shake of his head once he’d made his selection. “They’re my nieces… I’m not married.”

“Well, I hope your nieces appreciate the gifts you’ve gotten them.”

The woman paused looking down at the items on the counter once Edward had paid. “Would you like me to get you a crate for these? Might be easier for you to carry.”

Edward hadn’t really thought about how he might carry these things, as impulsive as this had all been. “A crate would be excellent, thank you.” There certainly wouldn’t be room in his trunk for everything.

“Right,” the woman said. “Let me just get my husband. He gets so wrapped up in his work, he never hears the bell, ’s why I mind the counter most days.”

“Doesn’t seem quite fair to you, particularly now.” Edward grimaced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Forgive me, that was out of line.”

“You’re forgiven,” the woman said easily, heaving herself to her feet.

She didn’t go far, just to the curtained off doorway in the back of the store, which Edward could only assume led to her husband’s workshop.

She rapped on the doorframe. “Solomon? I need a crate for a customer’s purchase. Medium small should do.”

There was a bang from the workshop and Edward tore his gaze away from the doorway. _Solomon_. That name certainly brought back memories. Edward couldn’t say he’d known another Solomon aside from Tozer, although Tozer had said he was far from the only Solomon in his family. He worried his hat in his hands—he wished he’d done a better job of keeping in touch with Tozer following the expedition. Edward had tried writing him once he’d recovered somewhat, only to find that Solomon no longer lived at the address he’d given Edward when they parted ways. Edward had felt rather despondent after that. He’d hoped—though they’d never discussed it—that they might find a way to continue what had developed between them in the Arctic once they’d returned. Edward now realized that had been fanciful thinking, but they could have kept in touch if only Edward had written sooner.

Edward did his best not to eavesdrop on the quiet conversation happening mere feet away, but then the woman’s husband laughed and, “Well, if it isn’t Edward Little.”

It was enough to have Edward jerking his head back toward the doorway. Oh. It _was_ his Solomon. Edward swallowed, finding himself suddenly unable to form words.

Solomon chuckled again and turned to his wife. “Why don’t you head upstairs? I’ll finish up with the Commander here and close up.”

“Bring up my sewing will you,” she said, and Solomon nodded and then she was gone.

“Cat got your tongue, Commander Little?” Solomon asked, making his way over to the counter and setting the box he was carrying down.

“I… I wasn’t expecting to see you here, is all,” Edward said. “Didn’t know where you were. I assumed you were probably sailing again, given the war.” He’d prayed for Solomon’s safety during those long years.

Solomon shook his head and pulled out some paper to pack the box. “I quit, after we came back. I… I couldn’t watch men under my command die like that again.”

“The war was almost easier,” Edward admitted. Though it had been horrible in other ways, there was no monster hunting them and there was no question that their weapons would kill the enemy. “Made captain.”

“Suppose congratulations are in order then. You just back?” Solomon asked as he began to pad out the box.

Edward found himself fixating on Solomon’s hands, and he had to force himself to look up again. “Yeah, thank you. I’m going to visit my sister and her family once I get everything squared away in London, hence…” he gestured vaguely at the items Solomon was boxing up for him.

Solomon lifted one of the dolls. “Got a lot of girls, your sister?”

“Five,” Edward said.

Solomon gave a low whistle. “Can’t imagine what that’s like. I’ve only got one and she’s almost more than I can handle.”

Edward’s stomach was instantly in knots at that. Right, of course, how could he have forgotten that Solomon was married—he’d just been talking to Solomon’s very pregnant wife. He swallowed down the hurt and jealousy. “What’s her name?”

“Rebecca,” Solomon said, a smile quirking on his lips. “She’ll be five this year.”

“Practically an adult, then,” Edward said, trying to sound and appear enthusiastic even as he did the math to figure out when Solomon must have gotten married in order for his eldest to be five. It would have to have been fairly soon after they’d returned… Had she been waiting for him?

Solomon snorted. “She certainly seems to think so.”

“Do you have any other children?” Edward asked. He should change the subject to something, _anything_ , else. He wanted to be happy for Solomon, he did—he _was_ happy for Solomon—but that didn’t help the ache in his chest that had gone from missing Solomon and hoping to realizing he and Solomon could never go back to what they were.

“Just the one on the way,” Solomon said. “Sarah never really wanted many children, and since she’s the one giving birth I figured I’d let her take the lead there.” He paused to slot the lid of the box firmly into place and thumped his hand down on the box when he was done. “There you are.”

“Thank you.” Edward wanted to say more, to draw out their conversation in some way he had no idea how to.

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence and Edward dragged the box closer to him while Solomon opened his mouth, as if to say something, before closing it again.

The tension, at least, was broken when a young girl barreled through the curtain to Solomon’s workshop. “Papa!”

Solomon let out a fond, but exasperated, sigh, and bent to scoop her up as she reached him. Something clenched in Edward’s chest as Solomon placed a messy kiss on the girl’s cheek, making her break out into giggles. He then set her down on the counter.

“This must be Rebecca,” Edward said, only feeling a little stilted and uncertain. Solomon wasn’t trying to usher Edward out of the shop, so this wasn’t overstepping what uncertain boundaries still stood between them.

“It is.” Solomon gave her a pointed look. “And she _should_ be upstairs helping her mother.”

Rebecca sniffed and sat up straighter, glancing back at Edward briefly. He had the feeling he was being judged.

She then turned back to Solomon. “Mama sent me to ask if Mr. Little would be joining us for dinner.”

Edward froze and Solomon’s eyes widened snapping from his daughter to Edward.

“I’m sure Captain Little has things he needs to attend to,” Solomon said, slowly, not breaking eye contact with Edward.

It felt like both an invitation and an excuse. Edward could agree and make his escape or he could say otherwise and take this chance to reconnect with Solomon.

“There’s not much more I can do until I get to the Admiralty in London,” Edward said with a small shrug. “Having dinner your family sounds much better than what my plans would be otherwise.”

Solomon let out a breath and grinned. “That settles it then,” he said, helping Rebecca down from the counter. “Run upstairs and tell your mum she can set out an extra plate.”

Rebecca nodded and then ran off again, giving Edward one final appraising stare before disappearing behind the curtain to Solomon’s workshop.

“You got a place to stay already?” Solomon asked, drawing Edward’s attention back to him.

Edward shrugged.“Sort of.”

“Sort of,” Solomon parroted back with a smirk. “How does one ‘sort of’ have a place to stay?”

“I…” Edward sighed. “I was half planning to head for London tonight. I stashed my trunk at an inn, but I haven’t paid for a full night yet.”

“We’ve got a guest room,” Solomon said, nodding in the general direction of the upstairs flat. “If you’d rather not pay for a room of dubious quality.”

The idea was both incredibly appealing and terrifying. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” Edward began, but he paused before making any further objections. For all they’d fallen out of touch Solomon clearly didn’t see their friendship ruined for it.

“I wouldn’t have made the invitation if it were,” Solomon said. “Now, I’ve got to close up, so why don’t you run back to the inn to get your things. I’ll put your purchases in the guest room for you.”

It seemed rather early to close to Edward, but it was no business of his how Solomon chose to run his shop, so he simply nodded.

“If I’m not still down here when you return, go around to the door in the back and ring the bell,” Solomon continued, stepping out from behind the counter. He paused for a moment and sighed. “I’m glad to see you Edward. I thought… When you didn’t write I assumed you’d changed your mind about…” he gestured vaguely, “everything.”

“I did write,” Edward admitted, suddenly unable to look at Solomon. “Only I waited too long, and you’d moved.”

Solomon shook his head with a chuckle. “Well, late is better than never. Go take care of what you need to. Dinner’s at sunset, don’t be late.”

Edward gave a small smile. “It shouldn’t take me quite that long.”

Edward could not get Solomon’s words out his head as he went to collect his things. “Late is better than never.” He knew it didn’t mean a return to exactly how things were—he could expect nothing more than friendship from Solomon, but it made him feel giddy all the same. He would not waste this rekindling of their friendship.

Making quick work of collecting his trunk from the innkeeper, who was visibly disgruntled about the fact that Edward wouldn’t be staying, Edward hailed a cab to cart his trunk and two crates containing his logbooks and other documents back to Solomon’s shop. There was plenty of time before sunset, but there was a limited amount of time he would have with Solomon before he had to leave for London and he wanted to take advantage of every minute of it. It was a selfish impulse, but he would take any and all time with Solomon offered to him.

To Edward’s surprise, he found Solomon waiting for him outside, leaned up against the doorframe and smoking a cigarette, when the cab finally rolled to a halt in front of the shop—or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on Edward’s part.

“Wasn’t expecting you to bring a cab,” Solomon said, putting out his cigarette and pushing himself up to meet Edward as he got out of the cab.

“I had more than I could easily carry on my own.” Edward hefted his personal trunk out before going for the crates of documents, which Solomon took from him almost as soon as he’d picked them up.

“You posh captains, allowed to bring the world with you when you sail,” Solomon teased and Edward let out a small chuckle.

“I can handle my trunk on its own,” Edward muttered. “It’s just a bit much when paired with crates of logbooks.”

“Ah, we can leave them in my workshop so you don’t have to haul them all the way up the stairs,” Solomon said, readjusting his grip on the crates.

Edward paid the driver and then Solomon led the way to the back of the building to the door that would take them more directly to the flat above. In the stairwell, Solomon left Edward briefly to deposit the crates of logs in his workshop, and Edward hovered at the bottom of the stairs, unsure if he should head up on his own or wait for Solomon. His arms were starting to ache from holding his trunk, but he didn’t set it down or try to readjust his grip.

When Solomon returned, he shook his head. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should,” Edward admitted, a bit sheepishly. He was still struggling with the idea of interacting with Solomon’s family.

“Sarah’s fierce, but she doesn’t bite,” Solomon said, grinning as he clapped Edward on the shoulder.

“I think I’m more worried about your daughter,” Edward replied dryly, some of the tension in his chest finally starting to ease.

Solomon barked out a laugh. “She is quite spirited, but she’ll like you, if she doesn’t already.”

They lapsed into silence as they made their way up the stairs to the landing before Solomon’s flat, but it was a much more peaceful silence than the awkward silence that had passed between them before.

“I’ve told her about you,” Solomon said as they reached the landing.

Edward was so shocked he nearly fumbled his grip on his trunk. “Me? Why?”

Solomon turned to look at Edward, looking almost confused. “You’re the only reason I made it back, Ned. If you hadn’t… if you hadn’t gone behind to Crozier’s back to tell me what was really happening… I don’t think I’d’ve made the same choices as I did.” He shook his head. “Rebecca always wants to hear stories about my time as a Marine and she knows I went to the Arctic. It’s easier to tell the stories I’ve got fond memories attached to.”

Edward swallowed. If that was true then… how abandoned must he have felt when Edward seemed to have not cared enough to write. He should have tried harder to seek out Solomon’s new address. “I’m sorry.”

“What on earth are you apologizing for?” Solomon said. “Come on, we can talk more inside.” He turned and pushed the door open, brushing his fingers over a thin oblong box that hung on the frame as he stepped inside.

Edward followed, muttering a “thank you” under his breath to Solomon for holding the door and then unceremoniously dropping his trunk on the floor just as soon as he was able. He didn’t think there was anything particularly fragile inside.

“All right there?” Solomon asked.

Edward nodded. “I think I’ll need to sit a moment before I move my trunk to the guest room though. My legs never really regained all their strength, not that… it’s not so bad I need a cane, but…”

“They ache no matter what you try to do for them?” Solomon finished. “I get that too, we’ll just shove your trunk off the side for the moment. The guest room’s up another flight of stairs anyway.”

“Oh, he’s not taking the guest room,” Sarah said, sweeping in from the kitchen. “I won’t be giving up my good night’s sleep for anything, he can share with you, Sol.”

Edward tried his damnedest not to gape. “Are… are you sure? I don’t want to kick you out of your own bedroom.”

Sarah snorted. “Bless you, but I cannot sleep in the same bed as Solomon while I’m pregnant. He’s far too clingy. If it’s an issue we can make up a cot, but given your history I’m assuming it won’t be.”

“Sarah, we hadn’t…” Solomon muttered before trailing off.

Sarah’s demeanor changed instantly. “I’m so sorry, Sol, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Edward imagined he resembled a startled hare as his eyes flicked between Solomon and Sarah, unsure what, if anything, he should say. When Solomon glanced back briefly at Edward, he thought he might expire, because Solomon looked so damn _hopeful_ it made his chest ache.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Sarah said. “I’ve got to finish dinner. If I could bother you to keep an eye on the bread once I get it in so I can check on Rebecca?”

Solomon nodded. “Course.” He took Sarah’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you.”

Edward could hardly breathe until Sarah returned to the kitchen and Solomon turned back to him and gestured him toward the armchairs by the fireplace.

It was such a relief to finally sit down. Edward hadn’t quite realized how badly his legs had been hurting until he sat down and took weight off them.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting an explanation,” Solomon said, worrying his knuckles as he took the seat across from Edward.

“I… yes… You told your wife about us?” It was a frightening thought. If it got out that Captain Edward Little was a sodomite… it could ruin him, but Solomon wouldn’t have told anyone out of malice, and Sarah certainly seemed as though she’d meant what she’d said kindly, so Edward tried to relax.

“Yes,” Solomon admitted. “We… our marriage is hardly traditional.” He sighed. “I should start from the beginning, shouldn’t I?”

“It might help,” Edward said, trying to keep his tone light. Solomon seemed terribly nervous and Edward wanted to reach out to him, but what would be appropriate between was now more blurred than ever.

Solomon let out a long breath. “We… after we returned and I quit the Marines I took a job under Sarah’s father. He’s a metal worker by trade, but now mostly oversees various aspects of shipbuilding down at the yards. I more or less took over the shop and then he allowed me to set up my own workshop in the back and here we are.”

“The metal candlesticks I saw, those were his I’m assuming,” Edward said. They had been quite lovely.

Solomon nodded. “He doesn’t have a workshop of his own anymore.He’d shared with a few other men before, but once he got the job at the shipyard he stopped doing that. Anyway…”

He cleared his throat before continued. “Sarah was always a very independent, no-nonsense sort of woman, worked as a seamstress—still does when she’s not fit to bursting—and we became friends fairly quick. She was having an affair with… someone, don’t rightly know who, and what happens happened and she got with child, despite her best efforts.”

“Oh.” Edward had no idea how to respond to that. Did this mean that Rebecca wasn’t Solomon’s?

Solomon chuckled and continued. “Course her father wanted to blame me, but it was simple enough to dispel him of that notion and I think he was happy that I offered to marry her anyway. ‘Course I didn’t… I didn’t pressure her into anything, I merely made the suggestion that if she wanted to raise the child proper instead of giving it up as a foundling, I’d be for it since I wouldn’t be getting married any other way.”

“Why not?” Edward asked. A handsome man like Sol shouldn’t have any trouble finding someone to marry.

Solomon gave Edward a fond, but exasperated look. “I’m a bit too interested in men for that Ned, among other things. I was never gonna have kids of my own.”

_Oh._

What had developed between then on the expedition had been a terribly tender thing—some things they had spoken about and some things they hadn’t. They’d never gone into specifics about preference because there had never been a need, not when the comfort of a companion was a far more valuable thing.

So Edward knew that Solomon preferred being buggered to being the one doing the buggering, was very particular about being touched, and got very sentimental afterward, but none that precluded having an interest in women. In addition, Edward had always assumed that he would one day settle down and get married despite his own preference for men, it only made sense. Despite his fervent hopes, losing contact with Solomon had almost felt like an inevitability. Such relationships between men never lasted, surely… Yet here he was, something so close to rekindling things with Solomon all but dangling in front of him, waiting for him to grab it.

Edward didn’t realize quite how long his silence had stretched, until Solomon cleared his throat, looking a bit uncomfortable, and continued softly, “I don’t love Rebecca any less for not being mine.”

“I never thought you would,” Edward said. “You’re very caring. It was plain enough to see in the way you cared for your men.”

That had been one of the first things that had endeared Solomon to him. Edward knew that relations between sailors and Marines could be contentious at the best of times, but he had only ever had reason to respect Solomon, particularly for his devotion to his men, it was a characteristic befitting any officer, Navy or Marines.

Solomon’s discomfort eased visibly. “I know I said it before, but I will be eternally grateful for your support during those years, and I… I missed you. I’d never… never taken a risk like that shipboard before, and certainly never with an officer.”

“I’m glad you did,” Edward said. “And for what it’s worth, I missed you too, rather terribly, actually. I berated myself for years for not trying harder to keep in touch, I still do…” he admitted.

“You shouldn’t only blame yourself,” Solomon replied, shaking his head. His eyes dropped to the floor and he continued to worry his hands. “Maybe you could have done more, but I had your address… or some part of your family’s address at any rate. I could’ve written too, s’pose I figured you being a commander would change things too much.”

He snorted, looking up to meet Edward’s gaze, which had not left Solomon in all this time. “Looks like we were both fools.”

“I think there was rather a lot on your minds at the time too.”

Edward looked up to see Sarah re-entering the room from the kitchen. “Yes, yes, we were rather occupied with other things.” A wild understatement.

“So don’t be too hard on yourself.” She smiled lightly and turned to Solomon. “I need to lie down, if you could finish up. I thought I could, but I’m exhausted.“

“Don’t worry about it,” Solomon said,getting to his feet. “Go lie down. What still needs doing?”

Following their brief conversation, Sarah retreated upstairs to rest and Solomon led Edward into the kitchen so they could continue their conversation while Solomon cooked. Or at least that was what Edward had expected to happen. In reality, he found himself roped into helping Solomon finish dinner, since it apparently also meant prepping breakfast and lunch for tomorrow as well.

A good portion of the assembly had been taken care of already, a pile of fish sat neatly boned and other ingredients sat about the kitchen in various states of half prepared. Solomon made a beeline for the fish, while instructing Edward in what to do with the half formed bread dough as well as the bread dough that had already been sitting to rise.

“When you’re done kneading, set that dough aside and take the risen dough, beat it down, then split it into three pieces and braid it.”

Edward paused halfway through pulling the risen dough out of its bowl and turned to look at Solomon, “Braid it?”

Solomon didn’t look up from what he was doing. “You know how braid don’t you?”

“In theory,” Edward muttered, but he returned to what he was doing, giving the dough a good thumping before splitting it into pieces to roll out and braid.

It was both easier and harder than he’d expected. He’d worked with enough rope over the years to know how to braid—though that knowledge was rusty and half-remembered from his years as a midshipman—but braiding dough was not braiding rope. Still, he didn’t think the end result was half bad.

After that was set aside to rise again, Solomon had Edward come over and help him get the fish battered and fried. Despite never having done much cooking on his own, there was a peaceful sort of simplicity in being instructed about the kitchen. He had always excelled at following orders and apparently that was as true in a kitchen as it was on a ship. The sun was just beginning to set as they finally got everything onto the table with the exception of that last loaf of bread, which was still on its second rise.

Solomon sighed. “Nothing to be done about it now, it just got started too late.”

“At least there’s one loaf for dinner,” Edward said, but Solomon shook his head.

He worried his lip a moment before speaking. “The Sabbath starts at sunset, Jewish law doesn’t allow work on Sabbath and cooking is work.”

Edward tried to wrack his brain to try and remember if this was something he should have already known about Solomon, but he couldn’t even think of a time when it could have come up. “I didn’t know.”

Solomon shrugged. “Never told you, wasn’t any point in it. Still had to attend Sunday service as a Marine.”

Edward floundered for a moment. That had been nothing he had ever considered.

“It’s not something most Christian folks consider,” Solomon said, chuckling, and Edward flushed upon the realization that he’d said that out loud.

“I… I could finish the bread after dinner,” Edward suggested, as he tried to collect himself. “Clean up too, since I don’t… I don’t have to follow those rules.”

Solomon nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “You don’t have to, but it would be appreciated.”

Dinner was another lesson in Jewish custom, watching Sarah light candles and hearing her and Solomon say blessings in a language Edward not only didn’t understand, but he wasn’t even sure what it was.

“Hebrew,” Solomon told him, when Edward asked quietly once all ceremony had concluded and food began to be passed around.

“Is this terribly new and strange to you?” Sarah asked. It almost sounded teasing, but the expression on Sarah’s face was genuine—perhaps curious, if anything else.

Edward swallowed his mouthful of food before answering. “Rather, yes. I’m familiar with the… the custom of saying grace before meals on Sunday evenings, but this is much more detailed… there’s more to it. I’ll admit I don’t quite understand the purpose of it, but to be fair I don’t know why the Church does certain things either.”

Solomon let out a sharp laugh, nearly inhaling a piece of fish. “I’m sure your men loved to hear that during Sunday service.”

“I was fortunate enough to have a chaplain aboard, so those duties rarely fell to me,” Edward said.

“Papa said you sailed together,” Rebecca chirped, and her words were immediately followed by a sharp intake of breath from Sarah and a pointed look that made Edward think Rebecca had perhaps been warned against asking such questions.

“We did,” Edward said. While it was true that speaking of the expedition was still difficult even after all these years, it had gotten easier with time and a child would not ask the sort of prying questions that an adult might.

“He said you shot a polar bear,” she continued, and then paused looking expectantly at Edward.

For a moment Edward froze. Logically, he knew that Solomon would not have told Rebecca about the Tuunbaq, but in that moment, his mind could not summon any other bear.

Solomon must have seen something of this in Edward’s face, as he spoke up then. “On Beechey, that great big thing we took down that first winter.”

The tension bled out of Edward all at once. “Oh, of course.”

He let out a long breath to steady himself before addressing Rebecca. “Yes, yes, we did, though it was mostly your father responsible for bringing the beast down.”

“What happened to it?”

Edward glanced briefly over to Solomon, who looked thoroughly amused, before answering. “We ate it. Fresh meat was a welcome change from the tinned and salted meats we normally subsisted on.”

Rebecca nodded sagely, as if she already knew the importance of that, and Edward wondered what else Solomon might have told her.

“And what happened to the fur?” She asked. “Papa says he doesn’t know.”

Edward frowned. “It was cured and preserved I believe, to be made into a blanket or a rug.”

Rebecca perked up notably at that. “Where is it now?”

“It was left behind, unfortunately, when we abandoned the ships,” Edward said, the knots in his stomach starting to reform. ‘Left behind’ was putting it kindly, Edward was fairly certain the pelt had been used in the decorations for their carnivale and had burned along with everything else.

“That’s enough of that,” Solomon said in a tone that was gentle enough, yet brooked no argument.

Solomon made a valiant show of being at ease, Edward thought, despite his tense posture and white-knuckle grip on his fork, and Edward had no doubt that Solomon’s mind had drifted to the same place his had.

“Eat your dinner now,” Solomon continued. “And if you’re good Captain Little will tell you a story from one of his other trips before he leaves tomorrow.”

Rebecca leveled an intense stare at Solomon like she was trying to will him to back down, but Solomon just raised an eyebrow and Rebecca sighed and returned to her food.

“Didn’t mean to make promises for you, Ned,” Solomon said, later that evening as he trailed after Edward into the kitchen, where Edward had gathered all the dishes following dinner. “Rebecca’s a good girl, she’s just…”

“Curious?” Edward suggested. He glanced around the kitchen trying to figure out where he ought to start, finishing the bread or washing the dishes.

Solomon mumbled a soft “Yeah” and sunk down into the chair by the stove. “It comes back to haunt you at the strangest moments, doesn’t it? You know, carnivale wasn’t even the reason I told her I didn’t know what happened the pelt. I really couldn’t remember.”

“I don’t think you can be faulted for that,” Edward said, shaking his head. “When Captain Crozier’s memoir came out I was shocked by how much I had forgotten.”

“You know I half expected to see a memoir from you,” Solomon admitted, leaning back and watching as Edward fussed with the stove. “Add two more pieces of wood and then put the bread in, it’ll be fine.”

Edward did as Solomon instructed and then straightened up, finally taking stock of Solomon’s first statement. “I thought about it,” he admitted. “Captain Fitzjames suggested it, in fact, but I didn’t know how mine would be any different from Crozier’s.”

“What about your time in command of _Terror_?” Solomon asked. “While he was sweating out the drink.”

“He used my journals for that, and there was very little I would have added in an account of my own, save perhaps how unprepared I felt,” Edward replied. “His account is very unvarnished and admits to far more fault than some of the other captains’ memoirs I’ve read.”

It felt important to mention, particularly to Solomon, who Edward knew had found it hard to trust the captain toward the end.

“’s why I liked him at first,” Solomon said with a sigh. “He seemed a fair but no-nonsense sort of captain. Suppose he did get back there eventually.”

They both lapsed into silence after that and Edward took that as an opportunity to make quick work of the dishes. Setting them off to dry before returning to the stove to check on the bread.

“How long does the bread typically take?”

“Depends on how large the loaf is,” Solomon said. “One that size? Shouldn’t be more than thirty or so minutes. When it gets a nice brown pull it out and stick a knife in it. If the knife comes out clean it’s done.”

Edward shut the oven door and stood up, wincing as his knees popped. “Nothing left to do but wait then.”

“We could take the time to finish the conversation dinner interrupted too,” Solomon added, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.

Yes, they could do that— _should_ do that, really. “Where were we?”

“I think we’d come to the conclusion that we’d both been idiots.”

Edward watched Solomon fidget with the cigarette. “Where should we go from here, do you think?” he asked.

Solomon was quiet for several beats and then raised his head to meet Edward’s gaze. “D’you want to hear what I’d like to do? Or what would make our lives easier?”

Edward swallowed. This was it, there was no turning back again after this. He knew what would make their lives easier, they could stop here and stay friends—Edward would find someone else eventually and Solomon would continue on as he had with his wife. However…

“I’d rather hear what you’d like.”

Solomon let out a long breath and grinned. “In that case, I would very much like you to light my cigarette for me and then take me to bed.”

They shared Solomon’s cigarette as they waited for the bread to be done—Edward was determined to see it done well and he absolutely was not going to leave it unattended and risk burning it and possibly starting a fire just so he could have a quick fumble with Solomon.

They had time now, a proper bed, and no one they had to hide from, and Edward wanted to take full advantage of that.

“I wish you’d stop pacing,” Solomon said, taking a drag from the cigarette before passing it over to Edward.

Edward sighed and took the proffered cigarette. “You’re in the only chair.”

Solomon just shrugged in response. “I’ve got a lap don’t I?”

Edward’s breath caught and he choked on the smoke he’d just inhaled, and it sent him into a small coughing fit. When he regained his composure and turned to Solomon he found the man trying to smother his laughter behind his hand. Edward glared at him.

“I’m sorry,” Solomon said, wiping at his eye and continuing to laugh. “The look on your face when I said that.”

Edward sighed. He wasn’t upset, a little flustered perhaps, but it felt surprisingly nice to be on the receiving end of Solomon’s teasing. It felt warm, and, more than that, familiar. It brought to mind one of the few nights they’d spent in Edward’s cabin—not exactly, of course, but it was the feeling of having Solomon close in a way that felt easy and uncomplicated, though nothing had truly been uncomplicated then.

“Have I lost you?” Solomon asked gently.

He was smiling lightly, and Edward smiled back. “I was thinking about some of the few peaceful times we had, how happy it made me then to have you close and… and how glad I am that we’ve found our way back to that.”

Solomon huffed and got to his feet, plucking what was now barely a stub of a cigarette from Edward’s hand and snuffed it out. “Leave it to you to get sentimental while I was trying to make fun.”

“It was your making fun that made me sentimental,” Edward admitted. “I’d missed the ease of getting to talk to you when we were alone. When there wasn’t so much rank between us.”

Solomon’s eyes looked very shiny all of sudden and Edward had the sharp fear that maybe he’d overstepped, but then Solomon stepped forward and pulled Edward into a hug, which Edward was quick to return.

They stood like that for several long moments, before Solomon pulled back enough to look at Edward, though he stayed close enough to keep a hand at Edward’s side. “You should probably check on the bread. It smells near done.”

The sigh Edward let out was very nearly a whine and it made Solomon chuckle.

“The sooner the bread comes out the sooner you get me in bed,” Solomon said, smirking, and he leaned in to give Edward a soft, but thorough, kiss before he retreated to the chair.

The bread looked done to Edward and following Solomon’s agreement in the matter, the bread was left to cool and Edward was all but dragged through the flat to Solomon’s bedroom.

The bedroom was cozy, with a large comfortable looking bed, and a window overlooking the street, which was Solomon’s first stop to draw the curtains shut.

“Does Sarah typically sleep in here with you when she’s not pregnant?” Edward asked, glancing around the room.

“We’ve never slept together, if that’s what you’re asking,” Solomon said, turning back to face Edward.

“It wasn’t,” Edward said, guilt was starting to claw at him at all the reminders that Solomon was married. “It just feels strange, us doing this, and knowing that you’re married.”

Solomon nodded. “S’pose that’s fair. If it makes you feel any better, it’s how our relationship’s always been. Though it’s usually Sarah having affairs not me.”

“Why not?” Edward would have thought that marriage would have meant more security for the both of them to do as they pleased.

Solomon gave Edward a strange look. “I don’t much like the risk involved, not now I’m settled down. I know molly houses are generally known to be discreet, until the police raid them at any rate, but… that’s for men with no additional secrets.”

Additional secrets… Solomon was looking at him expectantly, as if Edward should know what he was talking about. Edward tried to wrack his brain for anything they’d discussed before, but he came up with nothing. He recalled Solomon’s reticence about Edward touching his prick, which seemed like a good contender for what Solomon was referring to, but he didn’t think Solomon had ever given him a why and Edward had never pressed the matter. It had never impacted them, really. Edward had simply found other ways of getting Solomon off if he didn’t spill first, like letting Solomon rub himself off against Edward’s thigh.

Edward was jarred back out of his thoughts when Solomon cleared his throat. “You do know what I’m referring to, don’t you?”

The worry on Solomon’s face made Edward’s stomach turn uncomfortably, but he had no words of reassurance, because he _didn’t_ know, and all he could do was shake his head.

Solomon swore and turned away from Edward to brace himself against his dresser. “How could you…” Solomon began. “All those times we slept together and you didn’t… I thought you’d understood. I thought I’d made myself _clear_.”

“I’m sorry,” Edward said, and he was, truly. “I can make a good guess that it has to do with why you didn’t want me touching you.”

It came out more like a question than a statement and Solomon let out a somewhat hysterical laugh. “And why I never pulled my trousers all the way down or took my shirt off.”

“That didn’t strike me as particularly strange on a ship,” Edward admitted. He’d rarely gotten fully undressed during any shipboard tryst of his in the past even when it wasn’t freezing at all times.

Solomon sighed. “All right, that’s a fair point.”

When Solomon finally turned around to face Edward again there were tears in his eyes and it made Edward’s heart ache.

“Still, you never…” Solomon shook his head in disbelief. “You had to have felt something wasn’t… all those times you let me rub myself off on you.”

Edward tried once again to flick back through his memories, but many of them were so fogged from his own pleasure that he found it impossible to recall if he’d had any odd thoughts during those moments. “If I noticed anything, it wasn’t enough to give me more than a moment’s pause and I can’t recall any particulars.”

“You’re absolutely unbelievable, Ned,” Solomon muttered. “I… And when I talked about being a different sort of man than you, that I wasn’t made the same what did you take that to mean if not…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at himself. “I only said that cause I thought you’d already figured it out.”

Now that was a conversation Edward remembered. They had been talking, in loose terms, about marriage, and Edward had said that he’d always assumed he’d get married because it was expected of him, regardless of his feelings, specifically the lack of them, toward the fairer sex. He’d asked Solomon if he’d had any thoughts about marriage, and Solomon had laughed and said, “I s’pose I could if I really wanted to, not being the same sort of man as you, made different and all that, but I’d really rather not.”

“I assumed you meant you were attracted to women as well as men,” Edward said slowly. “What _did_ you mean, if not that?”

“That I really was made differently, Ned,” Solomon said, his gaze dropping to the floor for several moments before returning to Edward. He looked painfully vulnerable.

Edward took a step toward Solomon. “Whatever it is, I won’t think less of you for it.” Edward truly didn’t think that was possible.

Solomon worried the inside of his cheek for a moment, before sighing. “I have a cunt and breasts, my mother popped me out expecting another girl,” he said, blunt and straight forward. 

Edward blinked. He’d expected to hear about some deformity or other, not… not this. “You don’t look it.”

It felt horribly idiotic the moment it left his mouth, but it was true. Solomon was strong, broad shouldered, sported a well grown beard, there wasn’t a thing feminine about him.

“A lot of work went into that,” Solomon said, he still looked worried, but he seemed less tense than he had a moment before. “I, uh, I found a doctor working on some cure for impotence, and I got him to give me shots of his experimental serum in exchange for letting him run some tests on me to see how a ‘woman’ would react to the treatment.”

“What happened?” Edward asked. It seemed like a terribly dangerous thing to do, given the amount of quackery Edward had heard of over the years, but Solomon was here and safe.

Solomon snorted. “He gave me injections of his dog testicle serum whenever I was around in London and my voice dropped and I grew a beard.”

“Just like that?” It sounded baffling, near impossible, but he couldn’t deny the proof in Solomon’s person.

“Not right away,” Solomon replied. He rubbed at his beard.“It took a good few years before I got anywhere close to a reasonable beard, and there were other things to, including stuff that went away if I didn’t get shots on the regular, which I obviously couldn’t do when I was away at sea.”

Edward nodded, too in shock at the revelation to say anything, though his mind was a whirl of thoughts and questions.

“I’m still in touch with him,” Solomon continued, worrying his hands together. “He sent me a kit recently with some newfangled glass syringes so I can do the shots myself and report back how it goes.”

“That’s good, right?” Solomon seemed so worried, and Edward hated that he didn’t know the words to comfort him.

That seemed to have some effect however, because Solomon’s posture eased and he chuckled. “You try sticking yourself with a big needle.”

The thought made Edward grimace and Solomon laughed again. “Exactly.”

They lapsed into silence after that. Edward not sure what to say and Solomon, well, he looked like he wanted to say something.

Finally Edward couldn’t take it anymore. “This doesn’t change anything, you know.”

Solomon swallowed. “Doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think so,” Edward said. “I mean, I’ve never been interested in women, but I’m still interested in you, even after all you’ve told me.”

Solomon bristled and Edward immediately knew he’d put his foot in his mouth.“I’m not a woman, Ned.”

Edward intended to say something placating in response—that he knew Solomon wasn’t and he hadn’t meant to imply otherwise. However, in his panic, what came tumbling out of his mouth was, “You’d make a terrible woman.”

There was a beat and then Solomon snorted before laughter overtook him and Edward couldn’t help but follow after, at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

When Solomon caught his breath, he collapsed on the bed and gestured for Edward to join him, and Edward did, situating himself on the bed next to Solomon and drawing him close.

Solomon shifted to look Edward in the face. “I’m glad we got this worked out before my clothes came off.”

Edward didn’t even want to think how badly he would have stepped in it if that had been the case. “I think we’ve had enough misunderstandings to last us a lifetime.”

“You can say that again,” Solomon sighed. “You really don’t think this’ll change things?”

“Might change somethings,” Edward admitted. “But nothing too big I shouldn’t think. You’re a man. That’s how I’ve always known you. I don’t think I could see you any other way.”

Solomon let out a long breath. “Means a lot to hear you say that,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss Edward.

Edward groaned softly into the kiss, sliding a leg forward, an invitation for Solomon to straddle his thigh, if he wanted.

“I know one thing I’d like to see changed,” Solomon murmured against Edward’s lips, breath hitching as he rolled his hips against Edward’s thigh.

“What’s that?” Edward could feel his prick beginning to stir out of sheer anticipation.

Solomon kissed him again, far filthier this time. “Want you to touch me.”

And touch him Edward did. He took his time bringing Solomon off with his hands and mouth, relishing in the way Solomon bucked against the mattress. In all their previous time together, he had never really had the time to really _look_ and relish Solomon’s beauty. He had felt Solomon’s strength against him, but to see it was something different.

Edward felt a twinge of pride when Solomon was left so utterly boneless after orgasm that he could hardly move. Of course that hadn’t lasted long since Solomon insisted on returning the favor and, after revealing his small collection of wooden dildos—“Perks of being a carpenter, I can fashion my pricks exactly how I like them.”—he’d fucked Edward until Edward was left gasping and just as boneless himself.

“You good?” Solomon asked, pressing a prickly kiss to Edward’s neck as he slotted into bed next to him.

Edward felt deliciously exhausted and utterly relaxed. “Like I could sleep for a week,” he muttered.

Solomon chuckled and pulled back to prop himself up on his elbow. “I’ll take that if it means I get to keep you in my bed for a week.”

“I wish,” Edward sighed. “Know I would stay if I hadn’t already promised my sister a visit. I only accepted because at the time there was nowhere better to be.”

Solomon hummed, running his free hand over Edward’s chest to stroke through the hair on his chest. “You’re welcome to come back after.”

“I will,” Edward replied. “I promise.” If it were possible he’d never leave, but for keeping up appearances, he really ought to find his own place in the area. “Maybe I could try for a land posting that would keep me in the general area.”

“I won’t ask you to change your career just for me,” Solomon said. “But I’d like having you near.” He smiled softly. “You could be Uncle Ned to Rebecca and whoever we’ve got on the way.”

Edward’s breath hitched. “I’d like that, being part of your family. I’d like that so much.”

Solomon smiled and leaned in to kiss Edward. “Welcome home, then.” 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I'm sure many of you are wondering, is that Victorian HRT shit real? The answer is no, not really. It wasn't until the 1890s/early 1900s that scientists really began experimenting with injecting people with animal testes serums for virility reasons (at least as far as I'm aware), and I have no idea how well it would have worked. So real thing, but fictionalized for the purposes of this fic and probably not used much, if at all, by historical trans men. I got this idea from the [Sawbones episode on erectile dysfunction](https://maximumfun.org/episodes/sawbones/sawbones-erectile-dysfunction/) and also the episode on [renowned quack, John R. Brinkley.](https://maximumfun.org/episodes/sawbones/sawbones-goat-testicle-solution/)  
> 2\. The fish Solomon is making is the breaded, fried fish portion of the British staple fish and chips. That sort of fried fish is thought to have be brought to England by [Sephardic Jewish immigrants.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fish_and_chips#History) The first recorded combined fish and chip shop would be opened by Jewish immigrant, Joseph Malin, in [1860.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fish_and_chips#United_Kingdom)


End file.
